


Titan

by pr_squared



Category: A Change of Scene - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Pony Play, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared
Summary: Jacob, now Titan, lives in the valley as a pony
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Sally's Pony

**Author's Note:**

> "A Change of Scene" by I. Binder, available on Amazon, is the best ponyboy book I have ever read. The author offers a secluded valley where ponyboys and ponygirls are commonplace. Jacob, our hero, is tricked and captured, then broken and trained as a ponyboy. At one point, he runs away from his now beloved trainer. I've found that section unsatisfactory.
> 
> Seven chapters - that's it unless I get a compelling notion
> 
> As usual, I'm more interested in ponyboys than ponygirls

Jacob rounded the track smartly with Sally in his saddle. He carried her proudly and he was proud to be her pony. After his rigorous training and conditioning, her weight was nothing to him. He ran and snorted at the happy conceit that somehow she might be his, just as he was hers. However, he was a pony and he ran. His mind emptied of any inner conversation but he remained deeply aware of the comforting reality of the skilled rider in his saddle, the gentle pressure of her hands on his reins, and the touch of her spurs on his flanks. He felt her warm breath on his neck. He inhaled the scent of her perfume. 

Often, she talked to him as she rode. Her words meant little and her references even less but he simply enjoyed the sound of her voice after his long, lonely hours in his stall in the stable. He ran tirelessly under saddle.

Sally’s crop lashed his buttock, once and again, and he quickened his pace, surging forward. He smiled around his bit. Sally always struck him twice though he was eager to please her and once would have been enough.  


His speed was exhilarating. Sally deftly shifted her weight with his stride and they moved together as one. Intoxicated by the rhythm of his gait, his spirit soared. This was as near as he came to freedom. Everything seemed so right.

At the beginning and a while thereafter, he had hated her. She had tricked him. She had shackled him and stripped him naked. She had beaten him and broken him. She had modified his body to her liking. His body bore her piercings, his nose, his nipples, and his cock. However, she had rescued him from his old life. She was the midwife who had birthed a pony. No one, not even Sally, could turn a true man into a pony but some men are ponies already who have yet to find their true selves.

Others watched from track side, an older woman and two younger women. Jacob felt their admiring eyes and preened. He had become quite the pony after all and he was especially proud to be carrying Sally, his trainer.  


They completed their circuit. Sally pulled back on his reins sharply and brought him to a stop. “Well, what do you think?” she asked the three. “Twenty-three years old - likely 15 good years of service. He’s quite the pony! He won the calf-roping competition last summer though his speed is only mediocre.” She stroked his face fondly and Jacob savored her touch. He stood tall and thrilled with her public show of affection.

The three women shared a family resemblance- a mother and her two daughters. The mother studied him, hands on hips. She wore a colorful blouse, jeans, and battered boots. Jacob saw the crop hanging from her belt. He always noticed the crop. “Quite a pony! What do you think, Michelle?”

“I think that just he’s too much pony for Michelle,” Anne, the taller, older sister, interjected. “Michelle needs more experience – we should buy a gelding for her first pony.” 

“I want this pony.” Michelle responded in anger. Big sister Anne never trusted her little sister. Anne had her Thunder and now little sister Michelle was to get her own pony. Sally Jones trained the best ponies in the valley. “Let me ride him.”

“Mount!” Jacob dropped to the mount position, his right knee on the ground, his left foot planted and his left thigh parallel with the ground. Sally dismounted and held his bridle.

Michelle stepped up on his brawny left thigh and swung up into his saddle. Michelle was yet more petite than Sally. Jacob was large, six feet six. No hint of fat marred his muscular physique. Michelle steadied herself in his saddle and gripped the pommel fiercely.

“Up!” Sally directed and Jacob stood. He was eager to obey Sally. She was his trainer and he was her pony. She had broken and trained him. “Jena, little Michelle looks pretty good in the saddle!”  


Michelle hated when they called her little. She was a junior in high school. Her heels jabbed his flanks and Jacob started forward. Her bare leather heels felt much differently than Sally’s spurs but her intent was clear. Only experienced equestriennes were allowed spurs. 

Michelle’s weight was nothing to him. Jacob much preferred Sally in his saddle but he had carried various grooms and exercise girls as required. He looked to Sally around his blinkers, as best as he was able. Always hungry for Sally’s favor, he feared her disappointment more than her lash.

Jacob rounded the track. Michelle’s heels jabbed him again and he picked up his pace. She had little of Sally’s riding skills. She bounced around in his saddle like a sack of potatoes and hung on for dear life. He tried to watch Sally as Sally watched him. He studied her face for signs of approval or displeasure. He wondered if Michelle might fall and worried that he might be blamed. He slowed his pace with no instruction. Michelle yanked on his reins this way and that, more to keep her seat than guide him. He ignored the jerks on his bit and circled the half mile track on his own. So intent was Michelle on staying in his saddle, she let him run much as he desired. The ride ended uneventfully. Michelle was exhilarated. Jacob was relieved; Sally seemed quite pleased with him.

Next, Jacob carried Anne. Anne was half a head taller than her younger sister and a more accomplished equestrienne. She ran him through the barrels in the center of the infield, weaving in and out. With her firm hand on his reins, Jacob never doubted who commanded and who obeyed. She put him through his paces neatly. He was good at this! Then she took him once around the track. Effortlessly, she commanded his total, complete attention and Jacob had no awareness of anything or anybody else. She went to her crop on the back stretch. Her touch was demanding. He ran full out, his long stride devouring the track. When he lagged off the pace, he felt her crop again. He surged forward powerfully.

Sally used her crop more to focus his attention rather than to inflict punishment. He accepted it and understood her intent. Anne had a much heavier touch. He quickly came to dread her crop. Severity is true kindness, the adage went. A correction too mildly delivered is too soon forgotten and need be repeated.

“A fine animal,” Anne admitted when they had rounded the track at pace. “Mom, do you want to ride him?” 

“I want him, mom! My own pony – mine – and I can name him.” Michelle gushed.

Jena studied Jacob. She looked at her daughter Michelle and then she looked at Sally.

Sally smiled. 

“A very fine animal,” Jena agreed. “Now, we just need to agree on his price.”

Jacob stood tall with Anne’s firm hand on his bridle. His eyes darted nervously about, this way and that. Price? He was Sally’s pony. Somehow, she belonged to him also. Right? He did not want to be anyone else’s pony and certainly not Michelle’s or worse Anne’s. He felt panic rising from his gut. He felt betrayed.

“You can care for him?” Jena looked at her younger daughter doubtfully. “A pony is a lot of work. They really can’t take care of themselves.”

Michelle nodded, yes. Her eyes showed her determination. She had wanted her own pony for so long. The world looked different from the up in the pony’s saddle. She stoked his cheek fondly.

“He’s a lot of pony for little Michelle. We should geld him,” Anne suggested helpfully. Her hand gently cupped his full scrotum.

Jacob tried to pull away but was quickly pulled back by Anne’s strong hand on his bridle. 

“No problem. Just give him a day or two to get back on his feet,” Sally agreed brightly.

Geld? Cut off his balls? He ripped his bridle from Anne’s strong hand and ran. He had no particular plan in mind. He just ran and didn’t look back. Stride followed stride; he had no idea where he would go – he just ran. He had spent months training in Sally’s stable and no woman on foot could catch him.  



	2. Better Times

He ran and apparently, no one pursued him, it seemed. Gradually, his panic subsided but still he ran. His harness restrained his wrists. He carried his saddle. His reins dragged behind him and he ran.

Understanding slowly replaced panic. Sally Jones was a trainer and what does a trainer do? Does she keep all the ponies she trains? No, she trains ponies and sells them. He wanted desperately to be Sally’s pony and no one else’s but she had always planned to sell him!

He had tried to be the very best pony he could be. She wasn’t disappointed with him – nothing personal really. She was just a trainer. Not his fault, not his fault, at all. Trainers just trained and sold ponies. She would cut off his balls, if that’s what her customer wanted! She wasn’t angry with him – not at all - not until he ran away at least. Was she angry with him now? He feared the answer.

They must be looking for him. He stayed away from the roads and avoided homes and buildings. He hid in the brush when two women trotted by on their two-legged ponies. No one saw him. He did not want to be caught – but where exactly was he fleeing too? He must find some way out of the damned valley. The main road ran east-west. The western end became a trail that disappeared in the mountains. The eastern end was gated and watched. He chewed on his bit and thought. He would go south.

Carefully, he moved south, all the first day and through the night. He knelt and drank greedily from a small clean running stream. The bit pressed down uncomfortably on his tongue. Eating or drinking was difficult. Thirst and hunger were effective incentives, if he could find food. He had been fed well in the stable, if only pony food. 

He wore only his tack but he was not naked. His sex was tucked back between his brawny thighs and clipped to his scrotal collar. An animal may be unclothed but is never thought of as naked. 

He hid during the day and moved only at night. He found a secluded place and tried to sleep. He was hungry and thirsty. He had become accustomed to being watered frequently and fed regularly twice a day. His harness restrained his wrists. His bit made eating difficult, should he even find food. He snorted in frustration. He slept only fitfully. More than once, noises startled him and he awoke in dread. He urinated and defecated as his body demanded. Hunger and thirst gnawed at his innards. At dusk, he crept from his hiding place and trotted south.

He stumbled on a homestead the next night and searched for danger. He saw a water trough next to a barn but no people. He was thirsty and needed to drink. In hiding, he waited until full dark and crept toward the trough as much as a man six and a half foot tall can creep. Drowned bugs and leaves aside, the water was delicious. It quenched his thirst but worsened his gnawing hunger. What was the word for hunger greater than hungry?

He ventured into the barn. He saw ponies – men like himself – locked in their stalls. They saw him. They pulled against their leashes and stared back silently over the half doors of their stalls. They were prisoners, Jacob scoffed. He was free. Restrained as he was, he could not free them. If he did, what would they do? They were groomed and well-fed and he was filthy and damned hungry. Anxious that their stirrings might raise an alarm, Jacob looked quickly for feed. He found only a few pellets scattered on the floor and ate them. The chest was locked. He slipped quickly away. Hunger still gnawed at him. He could not rescue them. He had a better chance to escape on his own anyway. He slipped quietly away.

He remembered a happier time. 

Calf-roping at the rodeo. Jacob stood saddled at the slip-rail. Sally had stepped away from him as the boys were placed in coffle. Now she looked at him and smiled. He snorted and pawed at the ground anxiously. He could feel the adrenaline surge through his body. She reached out and patted his head one more time. Then she untied his reins and led him toward the arena. 

Unexpectedly, Sally closed his blinders. He wanted to see. He enjoyed the chase and the capture. He reveled in his part of it. He enjoyed seeing his prey lying hogtied, squirming in the dirt. Now, he would have to settle for the sounds, feel, and the images he could construct in his imagination. 

However, Sally had trained him to work without sight and he was good at it. No boy stood any sort of chance. He and Sally were just too good. 

His sadness disappeared when he felt Sally slip up onto his saddle and close her knees around his flanks. He felt her breath on his neck and sensed her breasts pushed against his back. He shifted his weight back and forth, pawing with his right hoof impatiently, eager for the contest to begin.

Someone took his reins and guided them forward. Jacob figured they were being moved to the starting chute. He heard one gate close behind him. He leaned forward and felt the metal rails of the front gate. He settled down at Sally’s touch and waited for his signal. He knew that a bell would sound and the gate would drop.

He heard the bell and the gate fell. Sally’s spurs jabbed his flanks and he burst out of the chute at almost a full gallop. She guided him slightly to the right and then back to the left. Abruptly, she signaled, hold! 

He did as he was trained. He planted his hooves and came to a dead stop. He felt the sharp pull of the line attached to his saddle and the grunt of the boy as he fell hard to the ground. He leaned back and kept the line taut.   
Suddenly, Sally was no longer on his back. He was unsure when exactly she had dismounted; he was focused fully on his task. 

Sally shouted “Release!” The boy was secured at the wrists and ankles by now and was being pulled into a tight hogtie. Shouts, cheers, and applause from the arena marked Sally’s success. Her time seemed very good.

Sally took Jacob’s reins, mounted and slowly walked him around in a wide circle. He knew she was showing him off for the crowd and he loved it. He pranced proudly, lifting his legs high with each step as they exited the arena. 

Sally dismounted and tied Jacob’s reins to a rail near the gate area. He was disappointed that she had not opened his blinders so he could see what was going on. He could hear movement of other ponies nearby. From the sounds around him he assumed that another rider and pony had roped another boy. He would have really liked to see how another pony did it. What was the harm? 

Other riders and more applause followed. He heard the announcer name the semi-finalists. He did not recognize any of the names. Did he make the semi-finals? Did he lose? Was he to compete again?

They did not leave and Sally had not yet released him from the rail. Jacob listened as the next two contestants performed. The second received a greater amount of applause.

Sally returned and released his reins. She guided him back into the chute. They were about to compete again. They must be semi-finalists!

Excitement roiled “Focus!” He scolded himself. He needed to get his head back in the game. He needed to be ready to go. 

He heard the bell. Sally snapped her spurs against his flanks but he was off balance and a bit late getting out of the chute. He leaned forward to pick up speed and make up for his initial failing. He was at full speed when the command to hold came. He managed to plant his hooves, turn sideways, slightly and execute a very strong stop. Tension exploded in the line and almost pulled him from his feet. The boy hit the ground with a heavy thump. His grunt was followed by a groan. The hard fall may have aided Sally in subduing the stunned boy because the release command came quickly and from the response of the crowd was wildly exuberant.

Jacob, his blinders closed, saw nothing. He worried that Sally would discipline him for his slow start but instead she patted the side of his head fondly before she swung back up into the saddle. Once again, they paraded around the arena before exiting. 

Jacob found himself once again tied by his reins to the rail outside the arena. He listened carefully as the last contestant roped and bound her boy. Her time seemed good, but Jacob’s sensed the crowd seemed less than exuberant.  
The announcer was back and two finalists were announced. Again, the names meant nothing to Jacob. Perhaps they were the names of stables or farms and not the name of the rider or pony. Jacob realized he did not even know the name of the stable that owned him. He snorted in derision. What difference did it really make? He was just livestock, he brooded. 

Sally climbed up into his saddle and freed his reins. They must be finalists! This fact was enough to pull him from his funk. He felt a charge of renewed energy. This time, he would not screw up. He and Sally were good, he knew. They might even be the best. He was going to show that they were. 

Back in the chute, he poised himself against the gate. His mind emptied of all distractions and opened all his senses to his rider. He waited for her signal and he was ready. He did not even hear the bell. He was unaware of the gate falling. He only felt the sharp touch of Sally’s spurs and he was out of the chute at a full gallop. He sensed that they were on their prey before he had expected it. 

Even though his eyes were completely covered with the blinders he was somehow connected with Sally. In his mind, he saw her lasso snake out. He saw the astonished boy try too late to dodge. He saw the lasso drop over him. Jacob halted sharply at Sally’s command. The desperate boy had tried to cut away and he saw the lasso pull tight just above his knees and rip his legs from under his quickly moving body. He hit the ground hard.

Jacob responded to his training and added his body weight to keep the line taut, now holding the ankles of the prostrate boy.

Sally was on him before he could react. Though petite, she was bigger than the boy. She grabbed his arms by the chain between his elbows and slamming him onto his belly before swinging her knees down heavily on the poor boy’s upper arms and back. As Sally quickly wrapped and cinched his wrists. Jacob moved strongly backwards, keeping tension on his legs so his struggles could do nothing to impede Sally’s efforts to secure him.

Once his wrists were tied, Sally slid forward to the boy’s thighs and quickly wrapped and tied his ankles carefully tying just above the lasso held taut by Jacob. With Jacob pulling on the line to the boy’s ankles, and Sally seated just above his knees the boy was free to flop about as he desired from the waist up, but with his arms tightly tied behind his back, his struggles gained him nothing.

As Sally tied the knot in the ankle cinch, she ordered Jacob to release. He quickly stepped forward taking the tension from the line. This allowed Sally to quickly flip the lasso free from the boy’s legs, loop a line through the ankle cinch, up through the cinch at the wrists and then to pull the feet and hands together before tying off the last rope. 

In his mind’s eye, Jacob saw Sally then jump from her secured quarry and hold her arms up in the air to the wild cheers and applause of the crowd. 

The poor boy twisted and pulled at the ropes that held him. An official walked over, quickly inspected the knots and waited the required 5 minutes. Then she held up a green flag. The crowd erupted in applause.   
Was this what really happened? Jacob saw nothing through his blinders.

He heard the announcement of their time, a series of numbers and then what must have been a final score. The crowd roared!

Sally and Jacob did not leave the arena. She did not remount him. Instead she took his reins, opened his blinders, and led him forward. Jacob looked about and saw others in the judging area. Had they won? 

They had won! He was sure of it. He had done very well after all. He stood proudly just behind Sally. He shook his mane, rattled his bit, and whinnied loudly. Sally would be very happy with him. He pawed at the ground with his right hoof. This action drew some chuckles followed by applause. 

Sally accepted the trophy proudly and held it high above her head. Jacob thought it was pretty nice pretty nice; perhaps 18” tall with a 4” pony boy figure on the top. Ponies may win trophies but they cannot take them home. Jacob wanted all the other ponies at home to see it. They had won. He was so happy and so proud.

Sally held the trophy in one hand and Jacob’s bridle in the other. She turned to look at him, her face glowing with pure pride and happiness. Jacob saw beads of sweat on her forehead and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. He tried to smile at her around his bit and succeeded only in drooling.

Everything happened so fast. She pulled down on his bridle and he bent toward her eagerly. He saw the dark sweat stains under her arms and under her breasts. His face was mere inches from hers. He closed his eyes and inhaled her familiar scent of perfume and soap. He swore he felt the warmth of her lips over his but then she yanked down sharply on his bridle and kissed him on his sweat-slickened forehead. The crowd erupted again in cheers and applause.

Jacob knelt in display position and Sally stood beside him. She held his bridle in her right hand and her trophy in her left. One by one, the fans posed for pictures with the day’s champions. Jacob was uncomfortable with so many strangers but the crowd slowly dispersed. He was tired and glad when Sally led him to the stable.

Accompanied by a crowd of well-wishers, women and girls, Sally led Jacob from the arena to the stables. She didn’t stop to hobble him. 

She took him first to the tack room, where she removed his saddle and then to the muck room. Sally deftly fastened Jacob’s nose ring to the upright of the grooming stand. 

Eliska, a groom from the stable, waited, eager to help. She darted forward and secured Jacob’s ankles to rings set securely in the floor at about shoulder width. A pony could kick and do real damage with his strong legs and iron shod hooves. 

Jacob had tried once. With his nose ring clipped to the stand, he could not win free. His trainer stepped back out of range and whipped him into submission. Once had been enough. Today, however, he entertained no desire to misbehave and taint the celebration. He basked in Sally’s approval. She removed his saddle. His right arm was freed from his harness and he lifted it to the cross beam himself. His left wrist followed and he hung spread eagle on the grooming stand.   
Sally stood to his side and lifted his tail with one hand and opened the valve in his rectal tube with the other. Jacob felt his bowels empty. Excrement ran down his legs. Eliska handed Sally a hose and she washed him down, starting with his buttocks and legs, all the while answering questions and accepting congratulations. She gave a quick squirt up the anal tube and let it drain before closing the valve. She lowered his tail, then stepped back and sprayed him from head to foot, loosening the day’s dirt and perspiration. 

Starting with his head and working down, the Sally and Eliska soaped him down and scrubbed him clean with coarse clothes. They washed his feet, legs, buttocks and what once were referred to as his private parts. Today, Sally lingered on his private parts. As a general rule, she denied her ponies sexual release. His penis was restrained, folded back over and secured to his control ring. Jacob closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of their busy hands on his tired body.

“You did really well today,” Sally whispered, feeling him engorge to her touch. “Yes. You made me very proud.” Deftly, she freed his penis from the scrotal ring and took him in her small fist. His long denied body responded. She smiled at her easy success. Her small hand barely circled his girth. 

“I think he loves you,” Eliska teased.

“Do you love me?” Sally asked.

Jacob moaned and moved to try to increase the contact. Sally smiled at his pathetic desperation.

“Or do you want to have sex with me?” she teased. She had no inclination toward intimate relations with livestock but reveled in her total mastery.   
Eliska wrinkled her nose in distaste.

She didn’t do this often but today she worked him resolutely to a messy climax. The grooming stand groaned with the force of his months delayed climax. She left him breathless. The knot of fans burst into applause.

Sally re-secured his cock ring to his scrotal collar. She hosed him clean and dried him with soft towels. Sally led him, still breathless, to his stall. 

This stable had rules. Sally led him into his stall and helped him settle in the clean straw. She hobbled his ankles and leashed his nose ring to a ring set securely in the wall. She removed his bridle and bit.

Jacob lay on the clean straw and just wanted to be home. At home, he was not chained to the wall. Sally had stopped doing that weeks ago. Hobbled and locked in his stall, he already knew he was helpless and fully under others’ control. He did not need the damned chain as a reminder. He just wanted his own stall at home.

Sally squatted beside him. Gently, she stroked the side of his face. His eyes closed. He sighed aloud and relaxed visibly. She looked down and smiled at her champion pony. She did have a way with the animals. Softly, she ran her fingers down his neck and down his chest to trace the outlines of his sharply cut abdominal muscles. She tickled his navel and slipped her fingers lower yet to circle the base of his sex.

Abruptly, she stood and left the stall, latching the door behind her.  



	3. Michelle

Jacob traveled south through the night, carefully picking his path in the darkness and navigating by the stars. He stayed in cover, parallel to a trail that seemed to lead in the general southern direction that he wanted to go. He had found water but nothing to eat. At dawn on the third day, he found her or rather, she found him. Michelle!

“Pony!” she said. She squeaked when she tried to bark the command. She stood about 30 feet in front of him. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

Jacob thought to run but Michelle looked to be alone. She was small and not at all imposing. She wore her PET’M tee shirt and jeans, belted with a rope. She was so tiny and he towered high above her. He carried more than twice her weight. She had her backpack slung casually over one shoulder and he saw no weapon in her hand or hanging on her belt. No prod, no gun with tranquilizing darts. She did not look very intimidating.

Jacob did not run. Bitted and bridled, his wrists restrained by his harness, he waited and scrutinized her carefully - ready to flee. He had spent months training in Sally’s stable. If he ran, little Michelle could never catch him. 

“Pony!” she said again and smiled. She made no threatening move. The crown of her head came no higher than his chest. “You gave us quite the chase!”

Jacob took a step back and looked ready to flee. Quickly, he turned his head and saw no one else. The chase wasn’t over yet. 

“I bet you’re really hungry, pony!”

That got Jacob’s attention right away. He was famished and little Michelle did not frighten him, not at all. 

Slowly and deliberately, Michelle reached into her backpack and retrieved a plastic container. She opened it. “Look, pony.” She showed him the apple slices inside.

Jacob saw the slices and inhaled their delicious fragrance. His mouth filled with saliva and he drooled around his bit. Michelle chose one slice and held it out at arm’s length. He slowly stepped toward her and studied it suspiciously. What if it were drugged? He stopped.

“I thought you were hungry,” Michelle frowned. She sounded offended and ate the slice herself. “Delicious!” She licked her fingers clean dramatically. She place the container on the ground and held out another apple slice. “Come and get it,” she invited and smiled a disarming smile. Her face lit up when she smiled. Her other hand was in her pocket.

Jacob looked around again and saw no one. He took one cautious step toward her and then another. He stopped again and looked around again. The apple slice had not moved. The inviting smile on Michelle’s face had not changed. He detected nothing threatening in her demeanor. He was just so damned hungry. 

He took another step forward. He towered over the girl. Finally, he bent to take the apple slice between his lips. The apple tasted as sweetly as it smelled. He lifted his head to slip the slice past his bit and closed his eyes to savor its flavor.

In a flash, Michelle reached up and clipped a lead to his nose ring. The other end was tied securely to her belt. 

Startled, Jacob pulled away. He was so much larger and stronger than the tiny girl. 

Michelle pulled back and the pain on his nose was excruciating. He stopped sharply. His wrists restrained by his harness, he was unable to grab the lead with his hands and relieve the pressure. He pulled away again but the pain was unbearable. He stopped, then stumbled forward a few steps and charged at the small teenager. 

Michelle slipped deftly to the side and Jacob rushed past her. He ripped the lead from her hands but the lead was secured to her belt. He dragged her after him for a few steps. She tumbled from her feet and the lead snapped taut. The sudden increased pressure on his poor nose jerked Jacob from his feet. He fell hard and the pain was terrible.

He crashed to the ground. Restrained by his harness, Jacob struggled to regain his feet. His powerful legs flailed. His iron shod boots made his feet deadly weapons.

Unencumbered by a bit, bridle, harness, or saddle, Michelle regained her feet first. Jacob still thrashed about on the ground. Michelle stood over him. "Kneel!" she squeaked. She lashed him once with the free end of the lead.

Jacob ignored her at first. She wasn’t Sally. "Kneel!" She repeated in a more commanding voice. She lashed him again. After a struggle, he got his legs under him and awkwardly tried to stand.

Michelle yanked his nose lead and brought him crashing to the ground again. "Bad pony!" She lashed him with the free end of the lead, once and again. "Kneel!"

Suddenly, something clicked inside his head. His long days of training kicked in. Laboriously, Jacob rose to his knees as he had been trained. 

"Okay, mount!" She actually expected to ride him!

Jacob raised his left leg and planted his left foot. He had been thoroughly trained; His brawny left thigh was parallel to the ground. When in the proper pony space, his body obeyed commands before his conscious minds had processed them. 

Michelle grabbed hold of his bridle, stepped up on his thigh, and swung up into his saddle. Quickly, she shortened lead between his nose ring and her belt to about three feet. He could still move his head freely. "Up!"

He stood, more gracefully now.

"I'm going to ride you home." she declared and snapped her heels sharply into his flanks. “You’re my pony. I’ll show them!”

Jacob snorted and shook his head but started forward. We'll see about that, he thought.

They walked for a while, then Michelle ventured a run. She kicked him once and again. Jacob ran and Michelle bounced around in his saddle. Her weight was nothing compared to his size and strength. He ran and sensed that her seat might be precarious. He grinned around his bit and increased his pace further. Abruptly, he twisted this way and that.

Michelle tightened her grip and somehow hung on. She kept him, more or less pointed in the right direction.

Suddenly, Jacob just stopped. Michelle tumbled from his saddle. For a very brief instant Jacob gloated. He had won free, he thought for an instant. However, the lead clipped to his nose ring was still secured to Michelle's belt. The lead snapped taut and jerked him painfully from his feet again. 

The lead slowed Michelle's fall but she pulled Jacob down on top of her – almost. She rolled nimbly away. She scrambled to her feet and stood above him. She lashed him with the free-end of his lead. "Bad pony!" She scolded between strokes. She hit him again and again. Dirt stained her once clean tee shirt. Her hair was a mess. 

Jacob rolled onto his belly and tucked into a ball to protect himself from her lash. She hit very hard for one so small. 

The ride to the farm was uneventful. "You know your attempted escape saved us some money," Michelle explained as she rode. "Ms. Jones was so embarrassed. She gave us 20% off your price for your bad behavior but now you won't carry her stable's mark.” That would affect his resale price. “She doesn’t want people to know that she trained such a naughty pony,” Michelle continued. “I'll get another 10% finder's fee for your capture." Michelle was proud to have the large, powerful male fully under her control when she rode him into the yard.


	4. A New Home

Michelle mounted him on the grooming stand. He was too tired to resist. She clipped his nose ring to the upright and his ankles to stays set in the concrete floor. She freed his wrists from his harness, one by one, and he let her bind them to the crosspiece. She removed his saddle and harness. His bit and bridle remained. Bent at the waist, he hung spread-eagle on the grooming stand. 

She ran her hand down his spine from the base of his neck to his tailbone. His bare skin was grubby with sweat and dirt. Her gesture showed her dominance with a hint of affection. She squeezed his muscular buttocks. Strong buttocks were the foundation of a good pony. “You sure are a stinky pony,” she sighed. He had not been groomed for days

She stepped back and retrieved a hose. Blasted with a torrent of frigid water, he shuddered and pulled against his strong restraints. Starting with his head, she washed him down, head to toe. She pressed the nozzle between his buttocks then turned off the hose. She lathered him up and scrubbed him with down with a stiff brush. Reached between his legs and freed his sex from his scrotal collar. She cupped his balls in her small hand and stroked his cock, slippery with soap. “My sister wants me to geld you,” she teased. “Only a minor operation, really. Snip, snip!”

Jacob pulled away to the limited extent allowed by his restraints. Michelle laughed. The grooming frame groaned. He did not like talk of gelding but he had little he could do. He hung exposed and helpless on the frame.   
Michelle worked him methodically and her touch was distracting despite her frightening words. His body responded to her ministrations and she stopped to inspect her handiwork. She ran her finger the length of his engorged cock.  
“He is a fine beast,” a different voice offered – Anne? “He cannot match my Thunder but he is a fine animal.”

“I like him already. Look what I did?” Again, she ran her finger the length of his engorged cock and giggled. “Think he likes me?”

Anne ran her hand over his brawny buttock. “He needs to be punished for running away. You hear me, boy?” She slapped his ass sharply. “You need a sound whipping.” 

Jacob groaned and pulled at his restraints to no avail.” Jacob had felt her lash already and he was truly afraid

“Running away was a bad idea!”

“He was just frightened.” Michelle allowed him an excuse. “He didn’t like all your talk of gelding.”

Michelle gave Jacob his new name, Titan,. He was officially registered and tattooed. She saw to his care and steadily improved her riding skills. His stall was clean but this stable was more dilapidated than Sally’s. At night, they left him tethered as well as hobbled. No one thought to remove his bit.

Early each weekday morning Jacob now carried Michelle about five miles to school. Running in the chill morning air was a welcome escape from the close confines of his stall and as near as he came to freedom. Michelle had yet to match Sally’s or Anne’s skill but now she felt right in his saddle. He had less enthusiasm for the long hours he spent in the school paddock, hobbled, and tethered, while Michelle attended classes. He exchanged defiant stares with the other mounts but he had become quite good at waiting. 

He had long hours alone in his stall. He thought back over the past months – it was likely a year since his capture. He thought about his time in Sally’s stable. Once, he had been named Jacob. He had thought himself a human being and no one’s beast. They had collared his neck and made his arms useless, restrained in his harness. They had fitted him with nose and nipple rings. He had learned what it really means to be led around by the nose. They had pierced his sex and bent it backwards to secure it to the collar that circled his ball sac. His urine now streamed back between his legs when he voided. 

He had been kept blindfolded for a month and totally dependent on his trainer and handlers. He spent long hours alone in his stall. They fed him and watered him by hand. They commanded his body functions – defecation and urination. They mounted him on the grooming stand and touched him where they chose. When his body responded to their ministrations, they laughed and teased about irrepressible male optimism and went about their business undeterred.

He had resisted the bit at first but he had been bitted and bridled. The curb pressed his tongue down and kept him from dislodging the bit as well as preventing speech. A training bit had held his mouth open so he could not refuse his water or food. His choice was only swallow or choke. The bridle had blinders. When closed, they deprived him of sight. When open, they severely restricted his field of vision. 

In his first days in captivity, he was bound to the carousel day and night. He lost count of the exact number. Days and nights were much the same except for the heat of the sun or the chill of the night on his bare body. They walked him an hour with five minutes rest hour after hour and drilled him on his positions – kneel, mount, and up – ceaselessly. If he was slow or sloppy he felt the trainer’s whip and he felt it often at the beginning. He got four hours sleep in place every second night or day. Quickly, he learned to obey. He learned the basic commands, “kneel,” “mount,” and “up. At first, he obeyed only to avoid the whip – a rational choice, he thought and took a quiet pleasure in his cleverness. 

He fought them twice, sort of. Once, just once, Sally fastened his nose ring to the grooming stand and his right ankle to the stay set securely in the floor. She freed him of his hobble and he kicked at her. She was behind him and he couldn’t see her very well with the blinders. He had little slack to turn his head. He kicked and missed. She backed away and he had only earned himself a serious whipping. She left him secured to the grooming frame, standing in his own excrement, a day and a night.

Once he stood at the grooming stand with ankles freed from his hobble but secured to stays in the floor. His nose ring was clipped to the stand. Eliŝka freed his right wrist from his harness and lifted it to the cross piece. He pulled his arm away from her and flailed it about. By chance, he grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her toward him. His left wrist was still restrained by his harness. He screamed around his bit. The tongue curb prevented intelligible speech.   
Laughing, she ducked away. Jacob grabbed at empty air. “Mother warned me about boys like you!” she quipped. She stepped back and just waited, hands on hips.

Jacob trembled at the thought of the beating he would receive. This time, no beating came. Gradually, he calmed himself and lifted his wrist to the cross piece of the grooming stand. Eliŝka secured it and freed his left wrist. He obediently lifted his left wrist to the cross piece and she secured his left wrist in turn.

“See, not so bad,” she murmured as she began his grooming. Her strong hands felt good on his tired body. 

At first, bitted, hobbled and tethered in his long hours alone in his stall, he meticulously planned his escape and his bitter revenge. He imagined his return to his ordinary life, far away from the Valley. However, the time never seemed right and the opportunity never came. They pushed him to his limits and beyond every day. Exhausted from his training, he had less and less energy for hopeless mental diversions. Over time, his fancies of freedom faded and came to be replaced by dreamless sleep. 

Sally Jones had broken him to the saddle. He learned to accept his saddle just as he had learned to accept his bridle and bit. Much to his surprise, Sally had felt ‘just right’ in his saddle. 

For a while, it had all just seemed a merry game. He took a certain pride in his ability to carry Sally with speed and endurance. He was her pony. He believed fervently that he obeyed only because he chose to obey –after a rational consideration of his options and the consequences while he awaited his chance for escape. He took a real perverse pleasure in the mere possibility of insubordination though he knew disobedience had painful costs. He had felt Sally’s whip and feared her spurs. Days and weeks passed and his new life became routine. No one called ‘time.’ The game did not end. 

What was the cost of resistance? They had captured Jim – called Reluctant Pony by the others in the stable - two weeks before his own capture. Jim had the size and strength to be a serviceable pony but he fought them endlessly. He never sought to trick them with feigned obedience. When Jim watched Jacob train with apparent enthusiasm, Jacob saw the bitter scorn in his eyes. At night when freed of his bit, Jim taunted him for his abject cowardice in hoarse whispers. Once, just once, he had convinced Jacob to refuse his bit and earned Jacob a beating. Jacob suffered two nights sleeping with his bit uncomfortably in place and more painful yet, Sally’s palpable disappointment.  
You might think Jim enjoyed pain. What did he gain for himself? His body bore the marks of his frequent beatings. Finally, Sally had sold him off as too disruptive in the stable and not worth the trouble to train to her standards.

Jacob had seen him months later, carrying his rider, stepping high and as pretty as you please. His pierced tongue protruded from his half open mouth. A tongue tie pulled it forward so that he might not dislodge his bit. They had gelded him and named him Scamp. Jacob searched his eyes for any hint of human recognition but found none. 

A girl from the valley had been confined in the stable. They called her Local Girl. He thought he heard Sally call her Abbie. She had been busted for marijuana for a third time. If captured in the Hunt. She would be a pony for life. The Hunt came and she disappeared. 

Jacob remembered his first time in the rain. It had been cloudy that morning when Michelle rode him to school. She left him hobbled and secured to a post near the front gate. A drizzle began. He did not like the feel of the cold drops on his bare skin. He stared into the school to look for Michelle. She must help him. He could not see her. He looked for some protection from the rain. He saw the school building but a pony would never be allowed inside. He saw a tree about 10 yards to his right and a cozy barn, its door open and inviting, about 20 yards in the other direction. If he could pull free, his hobble might impede him but would not prevent him from reaching shelter. Neither mattered because he was tethered with about 3 feet of slack. Unless someone would free him, he could not move from the spot. He pulled at the knot and his bit tore at his mouth. The knot held.

The knot was too high to reach with his mouth. Had he the use of his hands, he could free himself in seconds but his hands were restrained by his harness. He was helpless.

The rain increased. Michelle must come and move him to shelter. He jerked and twisted at his tether with increasing frustration. He whinnied around his bit. Maybe Michelle did not know that it was raining so hard. Lightening cracked and thunder boomed. The rain became a downpour and Michelle had to know. He stared at the warm barn longingly. With near frenzy, he stomped his booted hooves. Finally, he did the only thing that remained to him. He waited for Michelle, his owner.

He saw some motion at the door of the school. Michelle, yes, Michelle, dashed toward him. Help was near at hand! 

“Hi, Titan,” she grinned. She deftly stripped him of his saddle and left him standing in the cold rain. She dashed back into the school, cradling his leather saddle in her arms.

What? At first, he thought that he was being punished for something. Slowly, he realized that no one was punishing him. He was a pony and a little rain would not hurt him. His comfort was not a concern. The sun would come out and he would dry. However, rain might damage a valuable saddle. 

Each afternoon, he carried Michelle home. Sometimes, she took him to town where she met her friends for shopping or an ice cream. Sometimes she raced the other girls on their ponies. Titan won some and lost some but he always gave his all.  



	5. Abbie

Titan stood secured to the slip rail and waited. He chewed lackadaisically on his bit. If little else, he had become well accustomed to waiting. The simple knot that secured him might be easily undone with a single hand but Titan had no use of either hand and he was well aware of his limitations. He faced the storefront of a haberdashery. Plastic mannequins in smartly tailored suits and brightly colored sweaters populated the window display. His girlfriend Julie had had an extensive wardrobe. From long habit, he studied the mannequins’ inexpressive faces looking for some hint whether he done anything to elicit displeasure. 

Once Titan had worn such garments but no longer. The ponies whispered that those too old to serve as ponies were employed as household servants. He had never met a retired ex-pony. Would he be allowed clothes as a household servant? 

“Look! A pony!” a young girl erupted. She got Titan’s quick attention. Small children made him nervous as they were so unpredictable. He looked about for someone who might protect him. “Can I pet the cute pony?” she begged. “Please?”

The mother looked quickly at the pony. He stood a head taller than she and easily carried twice her weight. He was all muscle. He carried not an ounce of fat. His male paraphernalia were properly tucked back between his brawny thighs. He appeared to be hobbled and well secured to the slip rail.

“Dear, we need to ask his owner first.” To Titan’s relief, her mother ushered her daughter away. He settled back into his reverie. 

A woman approached him. She looked familiar. He had known her as Local Girl. In the stable, she had been naked. Now she was clothed. She had a human name too. Sally called her Abbie. They had caught her with marijuana a third time and had sentenced her to pony training. If she hadn’t won free in the Hunt, she would still be a pony. 

She grabbed his bridle and looked to see if any were watching. Adults simply didn’t talk to animals. The coast was clear. “Hi, Jacob,” she said. “How’re you doing?” She ran her free hand down his bare flank.

How had she won free? 

Abbie saw the question in his eyes. She had grown up in the Valley and knew it well. The Hunting preserve was a spacious rectangle, 3 miles east to west and 6 miles north to south. The prey was released at the midpoint of the northern edge. The hunters and their guides positioned themselves along an east-west ridge that crossed the preserve about 2 miles to the south. The ridge fell off steeply to a small river that ran parallel to the ridge. A single bridge spanned the stream. South of the river, the ground rose gently in a maze of mostly dry ravines. Thick vegetation offered good cover and the ground was difficult for mounts. North of the river was mostly open ground, except for some trees in the west. 

This is it, Abbie had thought as she listened to the Hunt Master with half an ear. She was just as naked as the 5 other girls who listened so intently and studied the large map. Just like theirs, her upper arms were cuffed and restrained by a 14 inch chain that passed behind her back but left her stiff hands free for the first time in months. By tomorrow sundown, she like them would be free or she would be a pony for life. Unlike them, however, she had grown up in the Valley knew it inch by inch and the night smelled like rain.

She and her boyfriend had been caught smoking pot. His second offense and he got off with a warning. Her third and here she was. The Valley had its own very particular rules.

The rain came down in sheets that night but the morning was brilliant. 

Sally and Delores had told her how Lady Claire, dressed in black leather like always, stood tall in her stirrups and peered through her binoculars. As always, she rode her massive black mount, Umazi.  
Lady Claire’s smaller pack pony, carrying a heavy pack, stood a few yards behind, free of any visible leash. However, he watched his mistress intently. His fear was visible. His collar bore a proximity detector. Should he wander more than 10 meters from his mistress, he would get a painful reminder. At 20 meters, the pain would be disabling and possibly lethal.

“They’re off!” Delores, Lady Claire’s guide, exclaimed. Lady Claire had hired Delores Evans to be her guide when Sally Jones had refused. Lady Claire was clearly exasperated. She had little experience getting anything less than what she desired. She never had to ask twice. 

Abigail and the girl pack headed southwest for the scant cover of the trees. They had over two miles to cover while the hunters had no more than a mile, though the ridge line had its rises and falls.  
Delores insisted that she had urged caution. Her mount, Saturn and Lady Claire’s Umazi, were superbly conditioned but they would need all their strength and speed to run down the unencumbered girls. Ideally, they would catch them on the north bank of the rain swollen river as they ran west toward the bridge, Delores explained.

Lady Claire could see the girls perhaps fifty yards ahead. She could hear them breathing. She could smell their perspiration and their panic. She found the aroma of their terror exhilarating and spurred her beast to greater speed. Umazi answered her powerfully as always. She raced ahead of Delores on her middling Saturn. The other hunters, who had also paid $30,000 for the privilege, kept up as best they could, Catherine Langston on her Tornado, Amanda Rogers on her Terminator, and Sarah Ponsonby on her Admiral Nelson. Emily Norton on her Lucky represented the girls of the Valley High School who had pitched in to sponsor one hunter. 

Abigail had a plan. Suddenly, she turned and ploughed into the rain swollen river. The other girls ran along the north bank. Lady Claire turned Umazi after her. Claire snorted to remember Sally’s supposedly trained mount balking at the water’s edge the day before. Even her spurs had failed to move the damned beast into the shallow water. She had broken her Umazi herself. He would not balk. He feared her more than death, she chuckled. He feared her more than god. She was his god!

Delores called to her to stop. After the rain, the river was likely deeper than usual. The other hunters and guides continued west toward the ford, pursuing the rest of fleeing girl gang.

Umsizi felt his mistress’ spurs and knew her will. He splashed on after Abbie.

“This one’s mine,” Lady Claire shouted, readying her lasso. Her pack pony entered the stream behind her, very tentatively.

Abbie splashed into the river. The water soon reached her waist and slowed her progress. She launched herself forward, landing on her belly. Wrists restrained behind her back, she tucked her wrists up under her bare breasts and kicked powerfully. Her pony training had done her some good. She opened some distance between herself and her pursuer, who waded after her in the deepening stream. 

The water now reached Umazi’s neck. He felt Lady Claire’s spurs and knew her will. He pushed on relentlessly. The stream bottom was slippery. He redoubled his efforts but his prey seemed to pull away. Suddenly, he stumbled and lost his balance on the muddy stream bottom. Saddled with his arms secured behind his back and carrying a rider, the massive male could not regain his feet. His metal hooved boots found no purchase on the treacherous stream bed. He thrashed about and struggled wildly.

Cursing, Lady Claire swallowed a mouthful of river water and somehow freed herself from Umazi’s stirrups. The water swirled over her head but she reached the north bank in a few strokes. Coughing and sputtering, she could only turn and watch. Her sleek leather outfit and her favorite boots were likely ruined.

The thrashing mount was clearly dangerous. Delores was not eager to come too close. After a few minutes confusion, she checked on Lady Claire and then urged her Saturn a few yards into the stream. She lassoed Umazi on her second try but his struggles had ceased. Saturn dragged a lifeless carcass up on the bank. The marks of Lady Claire’s spurs on his thighs, old and scarred and new and freshly bleeding, were evident.

Lady Claire kicked him a few times but failed to elicit any reaction.

Abbie allowed herself only the briefest glance back and no hint of celebration or self-satisfaction as she scrambled up the south bank. The girl gang had run west so she would navigate the ravines and head south by southeast. She had won free.

Saddled, bitted, and bridled, Titan looked every bit the pony. His strong legs rose to his high tight buttocks. His broad shoulders were made to carry a saddle. He was tied to the rail He turned and looked at her to extent allowed by his tether and his blinders. He looked at her beseechingly. 

Abbie smiled. Though his bit prevented speech, his silly expression betrayed his rush of eager hopefulness. Abbie had shared his abject suffering in the stable, he believed, and they had some sort of bond. She had won free and so would he. Somehow, she would help him. She would free him from the railing, he was certain. She would free him from his bit and bridle. He made noises and begged her with his sad, dark eyes. She had laughed at his absurdity.  
“Well sweetie, I see you finally have earned a name.” 

Jacob turned to look at her and did his best to smile around his bit. He pulled at his reins and tried to move toward her. Even though she was clothed and free and he was unclothed and fettered, he remembered their shared time in the stable and he felt something of a kindred spirit with her. A surge of excitement shot through him. 

“Too bad really, I was hoping to place my own mark on you.” She had moved up close to him and stroked his brawny haunches. 

Jacob looked at her her and moved his head, back and forth and up and down, trying to signal to her. 

“You think I’ll take your bit out, do you? . . . Yes, you really do.” She laughed and stroked the side of his face gently. “You’re just priceless. I really thought you would be a full pony by now.” She looked up and down the street. She really didn’t want anyone to see her conversing with an animal. “Looks like you are still holding out. Maybe you thought that I would come along, find you, and rescue you from your fate.” She laughed as her hand stroked his chest and began toy with his nipple ring. 

“You still don’t understand. Once a pony, always a pony. Had I been captured, I would have accepted it because once a pony always a pony. But I’m simply not a pony and I proved it. You, sweetie, are a pony. That means you are property, and you will be property for the rest of your life. When you are too old to carry a rider, you will be sold and someone will get some value from your broken down carcass. You are an exceptional pony with many good years ahead of you. Embrace your true nature. I doubt you will even remember that miserable excuse for a life you used to have.” 

Her hand slipped between his thighs. Jacob was torn between the arousal from her mischievous hand and the terror of her words. She had told him little he did not already know. He had never expected to be released. Her manner wounded him – her callous manner. He had thought that there was something between them. He had cared for her deeply. He had feared for her and cheered for her when she made her run for her freedom. He was truly happy for her when he didn’t see her in the corral after the hunt. No, he didn’t really think really she would help him today. The risks were enormous. Somehow, he was just happy to know she was free. At least though, he had expected that she might show some sympathy. He turned his head away. Tears filled his eyes. He felt like when his girl friend Julie had broken up with him. 

In this moment he realized that his feelings for Abbie had been more than just friendship. He would happily be her pony. He would happily wear her brand. He could think of nothing he would like more than feeling her weight in his saddle and her thighs against his flanks. Her words hurt but she spoke only the bitter truth. 

Abigail stopped teasing him. She looked sadly up into his face. Jacob hung his head. She patted him on the side of the head and then turned and walked away. Jacob followed her with his eyes. She did not look back. He wanted to run after her. He wanted to beg her to take him with her. He wanted to tell her that he would be her pony, but of course, that was not his choice. He was Michelle’s pony and he had no say in who owned him. He could not watch her any more. He turned his head away.  



	6. Michelle's Pony

Michelle loved to ride in the early in the day before the summer sun had burned away the morning mist. Titan was always eager to escape his hobble and the close confines on his stall. Carrying a skilled rider under the open sky was as near as he came to freedom. He had carried Michelle 10 miles to and from school, 5 days a week and maintained his excellent conditioning. 

Michelle had much increased her skills in the months she had owned Titan. She was a quick learner and had earned the use of spurs. She chose a round-ended Waterford spur. A marble sized ball, unlikely to break the skin, makes contact with her mount’s flanks. She was not yet as skilled as Sally but she shifted her weight ably and she and her mount moved as one – more or less. She guided him with a light hand on his reins but communicated her requirements clearly. She used her crop and spurs sparingly, to correct rather than to punish. Titan found some measure of peace as Michelle’s pony

Titan ran at an easy trot. Michelle’s weight was nothing to him. He crossed fields and threaded his way through forested thickets. His blinders kept his attention focused on his path directly ahead. His long strides devoured the distance. He splashed across small streams readily. Uncertain of their depth, he balked at wider streams. A sharp touch or two of Michelle’s spurs propelled him forward. 

After long hours alone in his stall, he loved the ineluctable reality of Michelle’s presence in his saddle, the sound of her breathing and the rhythmic creak of his tack as he ran. He felt the press of her thighs against his flanks and warmth of her breath on his neck. He inhaled the fresh outdoors air spiced with a hint of the aroma of his leather tack and fragrance of Michelle’s shampoo.

She often spoke to him as he jogged along. Her words meant little and her references less but she seemed pleased with him and he enjoyed the mere sound of her voice. 

Michelle enjoyed unburdening herself to him. Her Titan listened attentively. He never interrupted or offered glib, unasked for advice. She smiled at her conceit. The shank of his bit pressed down on his tongue and prevented intelligible speech. But all the same?

The ground opened, and she spurred him forward. He broke into a run. Another jab of her spurs and he erupted into an all-out sprint. His speed was impressive. She felt him slow and brought him back to pace with another jab of her spurs. His endurance was impressive too. After about a quarter mile, she slowed him to a walk. His brawny chest rose and fell as he fought to catch his breath. Sweat poured from his bare skin. 

Michelle brought him to his knees at the edge of a stream. She urged him to drink and he lowered his head into the tempting water.

Thirsty herself, she slipped around him to take her drink upstream from her mount. No one would drink downstream from an animal.

Titan lifted his head and savored the refreshing water. He saw Michelle about two yards upstream and suddenly realized that no one and nothing restrained him. No one held his bridle. Just where might he flee? He lowered his head and drank again.

One hand on his reins and one on his bridle, Michelle barked “Mount!” 

Titan raised his left leg and planted his left foot. 

Michelle stepped up on his left thigh and swung up into his saddle. “Up!”

Titan sighed and stood gracefully. He straightened himself and suddenly released a torrent of urine that splashed on the ground around his feet. Michelle gave him a moment before urging him forward again.

Emily’s ranch was not much further away. Michelle covered the last mile at a good pace. Titan was glad for a rest when Michelle left him tied to the railing and bounced up the stairs. She knocked on the door and Emily answered. Michelle disappeared inside. Titan waited. He had become quite good at waiting. 

Emily led her pony, Jim Dandy, from in back. Blond haired and fair complexioned, she had slobbered him with suntan lotion. She mounted her pony and Michelle mounted Titan. They rode their ponies into town.

Michelle and Emily rode side by side and talked. The pace was easy and Titan and Jim Dandy ran side by side. Titan’s blinders limited his peripheral vision and he couldn’t see the mount who ran beside him. Stride followed stride. Michelle’s weight was nothing to him. Her presence in his saddle was a comfort. Her hand held his reins and he had complete confidence in her direction. He listened to the musical sound of the women’s voices and lost himself in the rhythm of his strides. Perhaps, being Michelle’s pony wasn’t too bad.


	7. Sophia's Pony

Titan awoke with a start as a booted foot smacked his side with just enough force to rouse him from the place between sleep and wakefulness. He opened his eyes squinting in the early morning light and saw Eliŝka, one of the trainers, and a second, unfamiliar young woman in stylish rider’s attire. He was annoyed to be so rudely awaken but he was well acquainted with the unpleasant consequences of disobedience. Standing, neither woman reached his shoulder. He likely weighed more than the two of them together but he never doubted who commanded and who obeyed. 

“Morning, Titan,” Eliŝka smiled pleasantly. He and Eliŝka shared a history. “Take this one, Sophia. Titan, Michelle’s Wyatt’s mount. - She’s away at school and he needs the exercise.”

Still groggy with sleep but long on experience, Titan struggled awkwardly to his knees. His ankles were hobbled and his wrists were bound to his collar by sturdy ten inch cords but he was no longer tethered in his stall. Before he knew what was happening, he had opened his mouth to accept his bit and Eliŝka deftly secured his bridle, which had been hanging on the wall.

“That’s Michelle Wyatt, Sally Jones’ niece?” The Valley was relatively small and even visitors like Sophia knew most everyone.

“Yes, Sally broke him herself and sort of gave him to Michelle. That’s a long story. Michelle’s off at college now and Titan’s getting a little fat and lazy. He’ll give you a good ride. Be careful, though, he likes to run off, given half a chance.”  
Sophia was an experienced rider. She had ridden since she could walk. At first, her mother had lifted her into the saddle and led her around the paddock on old Big Boy. Then she had learned to ride him on her own, in the paddock and on the trails. Eventually she had earned the right to wear spurs. Now her mother had promised to buy her a pony of her own. She studied the large male. He was a sturdily built animal. “Well, I don’t expect to give him much of an opportunity.” She slapped her crop against her thigh.

“Never let him doubt who is his master and who her usually obedient beast.”

Sophia smiled. She had heard that adage so many times before. She clipped a lead to Titan’s nose ring. She took a quiet pride in her easy mastery of the large beasts. With surprising grace and power, he rose from his knees to his feet despite his restraints. She led him to the tack room.

Hobbled, Titan stumbled after her, slipping and sliding. His hoofed boots found little purchase on the smooth concrete floor. 

Sophia snapped his nose ring to the grooming frame and ordered him to his knees. Still sleepy, his response was a bit slow. Rusty, she thought, a bit out of practice. She did not repeat her instruction. Rather she let him feel a single touch her crop across the back of his knee. One did not argue with one’s beast or even repeat herself. 

Titan knelt. He had little enthusiasm for pain. Sophia did not hit even as hard as Michelle but likely this was only a warning. Anne, Michelle’s sister, hit the hardest. Severity was truly a kindness, Anne often quipped. A properly delivered correction was seldom forgotten and rarely need be repeated.

Sophia retrieved his saddle. The belly cinch circled his lower chest. Two straps went over his strong shoulders. Sophia kicked his knees further apart. The mere power of her boot could do little to move his brawny legs but she communicated her requirement and he complied. Two straps dropped from the belly cinch, dropped between his legs on either side of his genitals, enclosed his brawny buttocks and joined above his tailbone. She reached between his legs and pulled the strap through. The strap was designed so that he might urinate or defecate without soiling his tack. 

Titan released a torrent of urine and knelt in the pool uncaring. 

With a brief look of disgust, Sophia deftly avoided his mess. She knew that a pony is merely an animal, though a useful animal. She secured the shoulder straps to the belly cinch and the groin strap to the saddle. His boy-parts were properly positioned. She tightened the belly cinch with an extra pull. The saddle would not slip and the straps would not bind. She brought him to his feet, freed him from the frame, and led him hobbled into the yard. 

“Kneel!” Titan knelt promptly and she freed him from his hobble.

“Mount!” By rote, Titan raised his left leg and planted his foot to give her a mounting platform. Sophia held his bridle in her gloved left hand and placed her left foot on his strong thigh. She swung her right leg over and settled herself in the saddle. She planted her booted feet in his stirrups. 

“Up!” Titian rose strongly to his feet. The animal had been well trained.

He obeyed without conscious volition. What in hell am I doing, Titan wondered as his sleep fogged mind slowly cleared? Where is Michelle? Or Anne? Or Sally? Who is this presumptuous little bitch on my back? His strong body tensed with his increasing agitation. He pressed his tongue against the unyielding curb and chewed on his bit. He took a few nervous forwards and backwards steps. He wanted to see the cunt. His field of vision was limited by his blinders. He twisted and turned his head as far as his check reins allowed.

Sophia kept a firm hand on his reins. “Calm down, boy,” she urged quietly. She twisted her feet in the stirrups and let him feel just the gentlest touch of her sharp spurs. A rider had to earn the right to their use. Spurs could injure a pony and one had to use them very carefully. 

Titan stopped. He did not want to feel any more.

She guided him into the yard where Mackenzie was waiting on her Black Bart. His ebony skin was as dark as his leather tack. His well-healed brand showed deep pink against his black skin.  
“Let’s go!” Sophia called and jabbed Titan with her spurs.

Fuck you, Titan thought but he ran. 

He much preferred the brilliant sky and fresh air to the dim and dank stable. He had come to love the feel of a rider in his saddle. He felt a touch of spurs and lengthened his stride. Sophia was a skilled rider. She guided him down the road and moved with him – they moved as one. He inhaled the subtle scent of her perfume. He felt her warm breath on his neck. Titan warmed to his task. He could run like this all day.  
Sophia slowed him to a walk and called to Mackenzie. Mackenzie answered her. Limited by his blinders and check rein, Titan could see little of the other mount. He heard his breathing, felt the heat of Bart’s strong body, and smelled his tack. Titan and Bart walked side by side. They lifted their knees and stepped high as they had been trained. 

The women chatted intently. In general, their words meant little to him and their references less. He enjoyed the melodic sound of their voices but he was impatient to run again. His interest spiked when Mackenzie mentioned the name “Michelle.” She was enjoying college but missed her family and the Valley. Jacob heard his name “Titan.” She hoped he was adjusting to his new surroundings and behaving himself.

“Let’s run!” Mackenzie challenged.

Sophia’s spurs snapped sharply against Titan’s flanks. He burst into a run. Black Bart matched him stride for stride. Sophia went to her crop. Titan found that hidden reservoir of strength and endurance. He gave her all she had demanded.

He was breathless and woozy when she finally slowed him to a walk. “Good boy!” She praised him warmly and stroked his cheek. “Good run!” He felt pleasure at her touch.

Though his blinders limited his vision, he saw that they headed back to the stable. As much as he had enjoyed his escape from his stall, he was tired and glad for his return.

Stripped of their tack, Bart and Titan, hung spread-eagle on their grooming frames, side by side. Titan’s nose ring was clipped to the stand and his wrists were freed from his harness but secured to the cross piece. As always, he tested the frame and his restraints. As always, the frame groaned but held. A soapy brush in each hand, Sophia scrubbed him down energetically. Mackenzie groomed Black Bart beside him.  
“Told you that old Titan is a fine pony,” Mackenzie said as she worked. “Sally Jones trained him herself.”

“He really is. Someday, I’ll own my own pony.”

Mackenzie smiled. “Michelle’ll be away at school for four years. On campus, a car is so much more practical than a pony. She’s thinking of selling him and buying a car.”

Sophia listened and thought. “How old is Titan?”

“Sally took him when he was twenty-three – two years now - twenty-five now.”

Sophia used a long-handled brush to clean between Titan’s muscular thighs and buttocks and imagined her conversation with her mother. Well, Titan was a fine animal and he had at least ten more good years. She was likely to get a good price. Ponies had no odometers but the legs usually went first. She hosed him off thoroughly with cold water. He shivered at the chill. She re-secured his harness and hobble and led him out to wander around the paddock to dry in the sun. 

Sophia and Mackenzie watched the ponies in the paddock. “Titan’s a fine pony,” Sophia explained but I want something younger. He would cost more but she would break him and train him herself. Her hand would place his first brand. 

Titan found a warm, sunny place to stand. He saw Mackenzie and Sophia watching him. New understanding dawned. They really cared for him. His stall was warm and comfortable. He was watered and fed. He realized something else. He was not Sally’s pony or Michelle’s pony. He was now simply a pony and bound to obey whoever held his reins.  



End file.
